


The Boys Who Lived

by retrat



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Oneshot, Oneshot collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrat/pseuds/retrat
Summary: Some drabbles and oneshots about my OTP, Neville and Harry. Comment with prompts and I'll see what I can do.





	1. Shopkeepers AU

     Harry unlocked the door to his shop. It was a little thing, lots of shadows. A chair sat in the middle that could be kicked back so Harry could get at his customer's skin. Various tattoo designs covered the walls, blotting out most of the single window. Some were drawn by him, some weren't. He liked to think his were better than the rest.  

     He set his keys down on the counter, took off his jacket, and started setting up for business. Harry set the stereo to start playing the playlist he'd spent a weekend with Ron working on, trying to find songs that were both tough enough to not stand out in a tattoo parlor and less violent than Ron's usual taste in music. The redhead's band was a bit... much sometimes. Harry's pretty sure that Ron just likes being as loud as he can.

     He'd never really envisioned himself as a tattoo artist. He only had one himself, a little lightning bolt on his forehead that he usually hid with his bangs. Sirius had convinced him to get it on his 19th birthday part. Harry hadn't let his godfather do it, they'd both been a bit drunk that day. When the old dog had died though, it felt right to take over his shop. He'd just finished art school and it was about the only chance of employment he was going to get any time soon.

    And here was a two month's later, drowning in debt and running a failing business. Maybe this wasn't an altogether brilliant idea. 

    "Should have just listened to Mrs. Weasley and gone to work for Arthur at that stupid tech firm, but no, I had to be  _independent_ ," Harry said to himself, "Bloody idiot move that was."

    "Oh I don't know Mr. Potter, I don't think it would have gone as well as you think," came a voice from the front of the store. Jumping up from where he'd been leaning on the counter, he almost knocked over a jar of stickers. He fumbled for a moment to keep it from falling off the edge before looking at who had startled him.

    Huh, it was that guy who worked at the florist's across the street. He had short blond hair, and his face was always a bit smudged with dirt, especially on his forehead. There was an equal amount on his hands and under his fingernails, that reminded Harry of his days weeding the Dursley's garden. It always smelt like a hundred different flowers in his shop, and the same scent quickly flooded the enclosed space of the parlor. He wore a dirty white apron and was carrying a bouquet.

    "Uh, what?" Harry said.

    "Oh, sorry." The other man blushed. "I heard you talking and I- er, I just thought that you wouldn't have liked being in a tech firm."

    "What do you mean? You don't even know me, we've only spoken two or three times," Harry said, not mentioning all the time he'd spent looking out through the window at him while he set up the outside floral stand. It was part of (all of) the reason he'd put so many designs on the window.

    "Just, ah, from what I heard from Sirius, you wouldn't like working in an office like that." Harry reared back like he was struck.

    "You knew Sirius?" he asked, gripping the counter.

    "Yeah, he came around a lot for flowers. Apparently he got into a lot fights with his girlfriend Amelia. He always came in looking for apology bouquets. He talked about you a lot. I'm sorry for your loss. Everyone on the block was upset when we heard about the crash."

    "Yeah, thanks." Harry fought back the urge to sigh. Another person coming to give their condolences. Probably what the flowers were for.

    "When you set up shop here and didn't talk to anyone one on the street, I thought I'd come over and give you these. And to, uh, ask you out to diner?" Yup, just another wellwishe-

    "Wait what?"

    "Yeah, my assistant Luna thought it'd be a good idea, and I've been watching you close up every night, and I thought you were- er, really cute, so I just thought. You know. That I'd ask. I'm sorry, this was a bad idea," he said, making to put the flowers on the counter and leave. Harry grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

    "It's okay, I'd love to go out with you," he said, smiling.

    "Wait, really?" he asked, looking shocked.

    "Yeah, really," Harry said, grabbing his jacket, "Where do you want to go? I know a great bakery on Third Street."

    "Uh, didn't you just open?" Harry blinked, and looked around.

    "Huh, I guess I just did." 

    The other man grinned and laughed. His laugh was like a bears, deep and rumbling. "How about after work?"

    "After work then." Harry smiled back and set his jacket down.

    "See you tonight, Mr Potter," he said on his way out the door.

    "C-call me Harry!' He shouted on impulse. The man paused, and smiled.

    "Alright, see you tonight Harry."

    It wasn't until halfway through their first date that Harry realized he still didn't know the florists name.


	2. Chapter 2

    Neville set Harry’s bag down next to the doorway, making way for him to bring the large box full of robes and things. He’d refused to shrink it, saying he needed the exercise. Harry dropped the box next to the bag and looked around at the flat. A dining room, a small kitchenette, a living room, a bedroom, and one washroom. There was a small balcony where Neville planned to keep his muggle friendly plants. It looked down on the busy London cityscape, hundreds of thousands of muggles rushing about to do their business. Not much really, definitely not what Harry would be used to with Hogwarts and the huge Grimmauld Place. It was still better than living with Gran and Uncle Algie in the Longbottom Manor though. Uncle Algie kept trying to warn him off of his “alternative lifestyle” everytime Gran left the room.

    They’d gotten the flat because it was close to Neville’s apprenticeship in Diagon Alley, and because Harry liked being close to the muggles. Of course they’d had it warded to hell and back, stopping just short of the Fidelius. Never could be to safe after a war--Neville knew that--and it made them both feel safer. Neville eyed the scars on his and Harry’s hands. His “I must not tell lies”, to Neville’s “I must not interfere with proper teaching methods”. The scarred text extended halfway up his forearm. He pulled his sleeve down to try and cover it. Harry let out a deep sigh, and Neville’s worries sprouted back up.

    “I know it’s not much--the lady said it will look better with furnitu-”

    “Nev, it’s great.” Harry said, turning around to look at him with a big grin.

    “Wait, really?”

    “Yeah, ‘course! We’ll get some nice furniture in, a big couch, an oak dining table. Maybe some nice lavender drapes. It’ll look amazing!” He laughed, white teeth gleaming in the unlit entrance.

    “But…” Neville trailed off, not wanting to say it.

    “But what mate? You’re out of you gran’s place, I’m starting my Defense mastery in a week. Things are looking up, so what’s wrong?” Harry’s eyes were doing that thing where they were saying way more than he was. They were saying ‘How do I help you? How do I fix whatever this is?” Hermione always said Harry had a saving people thing, and Neville saw it now just as much as he saw after the final battle when Harry founded him bawling his eyes out over Susan Bones’ body. It had happened right in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He could only pick up the sword and carry on towards the snake.

    “I don’t- I just. Could you really be happy here? With me?” He finally stammered out, “I mean, you had a whole townhouse to yourself, and you have your family vaults. You could own this whole building if you wanted to and I don’t know why-” Neville cut off again and hung his head.

    “I don’t know why you'd want to live with me.” A long moment before Neville felt Harry reach out and touch his face, bringing him up to look him in the eye.

    “Neville, I’d be happy wherever you are. I want to be with you because you’re one of the strongest, most loving, most brave people I know. You led a damn revolution under the noses of the Death Eaters and saved more lives than almost anyone else,” he smiled, “The fact that you look like the offspring of a veela and a supermodel, may also play into it.”

    Neville giggled, pushing his hands away, “Come on, we’ve got loads more boxes and I don’t really trust the expansion charms on Mr. Weasley’s car.”


End file.
